


The Duck Behind The Mask

by zuriscribbles



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Domestic Moments, Drake definitely has a type, Fluff, Found Family, Himbos all around, I thirst for steelwing content, Jealousy, Launchpad is still a good boy tho, M/M, Not that good kush tho, Romance, Steelbeak smokes, There's some angst here so prepare your heart, Violence, Who's the bigger Darkwing fan?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24436576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuriscribbles/pseuds/zuriscribbles
Summary: Drake Mallard thought he planned for everything when he picked up the mantle of Darkwing Duck. He learned how to fight, how to use a grappling hook, and most importantly, how to make a grand entrance. Even with everything he learned, nothing could’ve prepared him for his fateful encounter with F.O.W.L’s most notorious agent, Steelbeak.As he juggles the responsibilities of fatherhood and his conflicting feelings for Scrooge McDuck’s personal driver, it’s hard for Drake to notice he’s on the verge of living life a little too dangerously.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Steelbeak
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't see a lot of Steelbeak content let alone Steelwing so imma change that real quick
> 
> P.S I'm still working on my other fic I just really wanted to write this one too
> 
> P.S.S This'll have nothing to do with my other fic it's it's own thing

"Hurry up, Dad. I'm huuuuuuungry," Gosalyn groaned as she rubbed her stomach. "Need… free food… need… cocktail weenies…"

"We would've arrived sooner if  _ someone _ took the time to brush their hair instead of playing _ Whiffle Boy _ all day."

Drake heard his daughter's nervous laugh from the backseat. He spent most of the day brushing the tangled mess that is his daughter's hair. On top of that, he had the pleasure of ironing their suits, polishing their shoes, figuring out which cologne to use, and putting the finishing touches on their masks. It was a miracle they were only an hour late. 

They drove down a winding road as they left the familiar sight of skyscrapers and concrete streets for towering pine trees and dirt roads. 

"Mr. McDuck was kind enough to invite us to this party full of important people. If I'm lucky enough, maybe I can talk my way into getting a new job."

"But I like your job. Everyone's really chill there, and I can have all the free coffee and chocolate croissants I want." 

"That's not the point, Gos. I can't work at Starducks all my life. I need a more stable job. One that pays more and where my clothes don't smell like coffee all the time. I swear you need to have some more urgency in your life, young lady."

"Urgency is just a fancy word for people who like stress to make an excuse to be even more stressed out. Face it, Dad, you're the King of Stress. If anything, you need to be more relaxed, like me," she said as she kicked her feet up onto the unoccupied back seats.

"I'm plenty relaxed."

"Say's the guy whose shoulders are up to his cheeks."

Drake quickly dropped his shoulders. He knew Gosalyn wanted what was best for him, but she didn't have to worry about paying bills on time, going to work in the day, roaming the city in the name of justice at night, and all the while dedicating time to be a fulltime Darkwing Duck fanboy. 

"Relax, Dad. People show up fashionably late all the time. That's just common etiquette. Besides, you just wanted to come so you could have an excuse to see Launchpad in a suit."

Drake slammed his foot on the brake, which nearly sent the girl flying from her seat.

"Hey! What gives?!"

"We're here," he said calmly. 

Drake parked the car in front of the gate and handed his keys to the valet. Gosalyn ran around the front to grab onto Drake's hand and eagerly pulled him toward the towering structure. They hurried past lines of expensive, sleek cars that made Drake feel insecure about his old Buggy. The crescent moon hung high above the colossal mansion as they made their way to the entrance. They barely stepped past the massive oak door before a white blur rushed toward them.

"Gosalyn!" The girl shouted as she launched herself onto the unsuspecting redhead in a tight embrace. "It's me! Webby! I'm so happy you came!"

Gosalyn gasped for air. "I… I can't… breathe…"

"Oops- sorry about that," Webby apologized as she released Gosalyn from her bone-crushing embrace. "I guess I got a little excited. I just really missed you."

“I literally saw you yesterday," she said, still a bit out of breath.

"I know, but it already felt like a lifetime ago."

Gosalyn couldn't help but smile. She hugged her again, with way less choking this time. "I missed you too."

Webby wore a dress puffier than any normal girl her size could barely stay in for long. Her white dress contrasted with the pink ruffles against her skirt, and she wore a white mask decorated with pink flowers and stars. If she had worn a pair of glass slippers with her dress, Webby could've been mistaken for a princess. There was much more elegance and grace to her style compared to Gosalyn's casual loose tie and red sneakers look. 

Webby smiled at Drake and hugged him. "Hi, Mr. Mallard!"

"Hello, Webby," he greeted as he hugged her back. "What're you doing here all by yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not by myself. We got a little worried when you didn't come on time, so we decided to wait for you guys at the entrance."

"We?"

"Hey, guys!"

Drake felt his jaw drop when he saw a man hurrying towards them. The golden light from the electric lamps shone behind his back as if he was a heavenly being about to bless him with his presence. 

The larger man wore a fitted black suit with an orange tie around his white collar and black oxford shoes. His perfectly tailored hugged against his muscular arms and waist. He had his hair pushed back, with the exception of a stray hair hanging above his right eye. He wore a silver half mask with pink and purple engravings of flowers and stars. Drake assumed Webby must've helped in making the mask.

Gosalyn waved a hand in front of her father's face. "Helloooooo? Earth to Dad?"

"Drake? You okay?"

"You're fine,” he blurted. He wanted to pull the feathers from his head once he realized what he said. “I-I-I mean, I'm fine. I'm super fine. I-I-I was just thinking about s-socks. Yeah! Socks! I just love socks, you know. Don't you just love socks?"

Gosalyn slammed her palm against her face.

He just got to the party, and he already wanted to go home and hide away in his room. Drake rubbed the back of his neck. "S-Sorry," he apologized, "I made things weird again."

"It's all good, Drake. You probably couldn't tell who I was under this mask. Here, let me give you a hint. I'm definitely  _ not  _ Launchpad."

"Hmmm," Drake hummed as he rubbed his chin. "It's hard to tell. I could be talking to anyone. Let me guess… Donald Duck?"

Launchpad shook his head as he held back a laugh. "He's never gonna figure it out," he whispered to a giggly Webby.

"Oh, brother," Gosalyn groaned as she rolled her eyes.

"How about… Ms. Beakley?"

"Nope."

"Mr. McDuck?"

"Nuh-uh."

"The Queen of England?"

"So close."

Drake let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh well, I don't think I'll ever figure out who's under the mask. I guess I'll just go ahead and help myself to some hors d 'oeuvres  _ all  _ by myself."

Launchpad frantically removed his mask and yelled, "I'm Launchpad! Launchpad McQuack! I'm a pilot!"

Drake hid his smile with his hand. 

The girls ran in front of them as they strolled behind. Drake had never been inside a mansion before, so he tried to take it all in while he could. There was a myriad of priceless vases and paintings all around that Drake felt he would get vertigo just from looking at everything. He even caught his daughter staring at the occasional grandfather clock or golden mirror. Before the girls joined the others, Drake put a hand on Gosalyn's shoulder and shared a few words with her. 

"Stay close to your friends, keep your phone on you at all times, stay out of trouble, and-"

"Don't go into a secret passageway without your permission."

"That's my girl."

Drake gave his daughter an embarrassingly long kiss on the forehead. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve before she ran off with Webby down the hall.

"Wanna hang out by the stairs?" Launchpad asked. "It’s close to the kitchen, so we'll be the first ones to score some hot food. I dunno about you, but my stomach's hungry for some meatballs. Aren't cha boy?" He said as he patted his stomach.

"Actually, do you think we can see Mr. McDuck first? I want to thank him for inviting me and Gosalyn to the party."

"Mr. McD's pretty busy right now. I just saw him talking to his old girlfriend. They seemed pretty heated over something that happened during the Gold Rush or whatever. I was never really good at geography. Besides, I'm the one that asked him to invite you."

"You did?"

"Mhm. Gos' been meanin' to spend more time with the kids, and you've been so busy with work I thought it'd be a nice change of pace for you two if you came with us. Take the load off, ya know. We haven't been able to hang out much since you started workin' at Starducks and, I dunno, I missed you a lot."

Has it really been that long since they've seen each other? 

Drake realized he'd been neglecting his friend whenever he canceled their plans after a grueling shift at work, or when he was up all night defending the city of St. Canard. He figured it must've been a few weeks since they last saw each other. Drake knew it'd be best to put off his mission of finding a new job for the moment in favor of spending some well-deserved quality time with Launchpad.

"I'm sorry, LP. I've been so busy with work I never even thought to consider how you felt. I'm really sorry and I… I missed you too."

Launchpad's smile always made his day, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all week. He held out his arm to Drake, which he happily accepted. Drake fought hard to overcome his urge to lean his head onto Launchpad's arm.

They made their way down the grand marble staircase toward the ballroom, where the sound of calming strings greeted them. Crystal chandeliers hung high against a painted ceiling that depicted angels playing on clouds. Enormous paintings lined the walls above arched glass doors that led out to the garden. Masked figures mingled with one another in pressed black suits and elegant dresses fit for royalty. It was a whole new world where even though everyone hid behind luxurious, golden masks, Drake still felt he couldn't fit in even if he tried.

"Guess what?" Launchpad blurted. "I re-watched Darkwing Duck's third movie _ Quackerjack's Return  _ last night, and it was  sooooooo good. Everyone was on their A-game, and the story's so well written! The plot twist at the end never gets old." 

"Dude, I love that movie! Believe it or not, I own the matte painting of Quackerjack's lair. It's up at my parent's place, but I can bring it over and show it to you."

"You can?! That'd be so cool! I tried to look for some original art online, but it's so expensive. And people don't usually take IOUs. It must've cost you a fortune."

Money's the last thing Drake wants to think about. 

They stayed by the base of the staircase and, as foretold, they were the first to be served. Drake munched on herb fritters and ricotta toast with honey while Launchpad opted for the good old fashioned pigs-in-a-blanket. They chatted and ate, chatted, and ate as a line of waiters formed to offer them more treats. Drake's had more than his fill of caviar and turned his interest to the bubbling champagne. One waiter noticed Launchpad's appetite and brought over a bowl of meatballs to him. Launchpad's eyes welled up, and he hugged the waiter. Drake ended up giving him a tip.

With enough liquid courage in him, Drake thought it was the perfect time to pop the question. 

Drake spent countless nights glued in front of his computer, practicing his box step and memorizing classical artists for this moment.

He was going for it. 

He was going to ask him.

He took a deep breath.

"H-Hey, LP."

"Hmm?"

"W-Well, I was thinking…" Drake felt hot. Very hot. His face felt like it could catch on fire at any second. Drake tugged on his collar in hopes that it would cool him off, to no avail. "I-If you want... we can, umm…" His gaze fell to his feet. He couldn't bring himself to meet Launchpad's eyes. "W-Would you like to dance with-"

Drake looked up and found Launchpad starting over him. His eyes wide and his lips parted. "Edith," he muttered, almost breathless.

Drake followed Launchpad's gaze toward a slender woman in a blush pink backless dress with white lace sewn onto the back. Her silver hair was tied neatly into a bun above her head, and a curly strand dangled freely on the sides of her face. She wore a golden half-mask adorned with white flowers and a trail of pearls above her eyes to look like long lashes. Her arms wrapped around a younger man's forearm. Drake was afraid if he had stared too long the diamonds on her necklace would've blinded him.

"Friend of yours?" Drake asked, knowing all too well how this would turn out.

His words seemed to have brought Launchpad back from a trance. 

"Huh? Y-Yeah," he stuttered. Launchpad placed a hand over Drakes’s shoulder for reassurance, but only left the smaller duck confused. "I gotta… I'm gonna… I'll be back."

Drake's hand reached out for him. He didn’t know why, but it lingered in the air as if wanting cling to his touch. He watched as Launchpad tapped her shoulder and smiled as they held each other in a hug that seemed like it was due a lifetime ago. There was something in the way they smiled at one another and how they were so comfortable touching each other that made Drake grip his glass tighter. He knew he should've been used to seeing Launchpad run into his old flames. It happened time and time again, yet his chest ached every time.

Johann Strauss' _ A Night In Venice _ began to play, and party-goers hurried into their partners' arms. Launchpad and the woman joined hands as they made their way toward the dance floor. Her dress billowed out like a blossoming flower with every spin. She laid her head against his chest, and the two waltzed as if they were the only two people there. 

Drake downed his drink and called a waiter for another. He figured a pleasant stroll around the garden would cool his head. The sweet smell of gardenias filled his nose, and the breezy night air put his mind at ease. Stars were a rare sight in St. Canard, and Drake wanted to take it all in before he returned to city life. The garden's filled with tulips, hydrangeas, ferns, and just about every plant known to man. He strayed away from the stone path every now and then to avoid couples sharing "intimate" moments.

As he ventured deeper into the neverending garden, Drake heard the distant sounds of water falling and followed it to a maze of rose bushes. He navigated through the labyrinth and found a small clearing where he saw the source of the sounds. A bright light emitted from the waters of the white marble fountain. It was extravagant, and the perfect place for him to wallow in his own dejection. Before he could get close, he was startled when a dark shadow came to view.

"GRRR! This is dumb!" The figure growled. "Why did Granny have to send me to this stupid party?! I'd rather be locked up at St. Canard than deal with this crap!"

Drake found a man in a black suit cursing to himself as he kicked a cloud of dirt in the air. He wore a pair of white oxfords ripped straight from the '50s and a black bow tie around his crimson-colored collar. Once Drake caught a glimpse of his mask, the theater kid in him wanted to run as fast as he could. 

The stranger wore a bone-white mask with a long beak that led to a sharpened point. Red paint covered the opening of his eyes, and it's glossy coat shined against the moon. With everyone wearing porcelain masks adorned with jewels and gold, Drake appreciated the costume's simplicity, even if it did send shivers up his spine.

Drake watched the tall man held his arms out as if he was dancing with an invisible partner. He had an excellent form, but he struggled to keep up with the tempo.

"One, two… two, five… seven…"

He tried to turn on his heel, but tripped over his own foot and fell to his knees.

"DAMN IT!" He growled as he slammed his fist onto the floor. 

The man pushed himself up to his feet. He dug his hand into his pocket, where he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a metal lighter. His shoulders relaxed as he blew out a cloud of grey smoke. He flicked the butt of his cigarette and took another long drag. 

Drake figured it would be best to leave the man to his vices. He took a step back, and-

**SNAP!**

"Wha-W-Who's there? Come on out!" The man demanded.

Drake felt his heart stop when the stray twig broke under his shoe. With every criminal he fought, with every moment he felt he would face his demise, not once has he had his life flash so quickly before his eyes.

… He never got a chance to finish that Darkwing fanfic he wrote five years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've listened to so much classical music since I started this fic. It's not a bad thing, but I keep falling asleep T-T

"S-Sorry to interrupt," Drake said as he crept out from behind the hedge. He's met with a gaze sharp enough to pierce through steel. "I sort of lost my way, and, well, I couldn't help but notice you having trouble with your box step."

"My what step?"

"Your box step. Your form's a little off. You're not supposed to spin on your heel when you waltz."

The masked stranger crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "You some dancin' teacher or somethin'?"

"No, but I did practice a lot for tonight. I can give you a few pointers if you want. We can still hear the music from here, and it's really easy once you get the hang of it."

The larger man scoffed. "Hah! I don't need any help. 'Specially not from some guy who thinks he can fancy dance his way in here." He repositioned himself as he was before and began to dance. "See? What'd I tell you? I don't need any- WOAH!" He yelled as he nearly tripped over his own foot.

Drake held in a laugh.

"So I'm a little rusty, big whoop. This music's too slow for me anyway. It's not really my jam."

"But it's supposed to be slow. It meant for partners to share an intimate, romantic moment where all their worries fade away with every twirl and sway. Where it feels like you're dancing on clouds, and you're the only two people on this earth." Drake realized he had his hands to his cheek like some hopeless romantic. He quickly shoved his hands in his pocket and stuttered, "T-That is if you're dancing with the right person."

The stranger held his chin in his hands like he was in deep thought. The tip of his cigarette lit brightly between his beak. "So you're sayin' I can walk on clouds if I learn how to dance this 'box step' thing?" He asked.

"Pretty much."

The man inhaled another drag from his cigarette and flicked it onto the floor. "Lead the way, Mr. Fancy Legs."

"That's Mr. Mallard to you," Drake corrected. "You got a name?"

"Course I got a name. And it's a real name. It's, uh, Mr. Steelbeak."

"Mr. Steelbeak," Drake repeated. He felt he heard of it before but just couldn't figure out where. He thought he'd remember as the night went on.

Drake clapped his hands as he recited the rhythm. “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.”

Mr. Steelbeaks's form was as perfect as can be, but Drake noticed he kept sliding his foot across the pavement.

"Your side steps are too wide. Try making them smaller and quicker." 

"Like this?"

"You're getting there."

There was some improvement. Steelbeak's steps were smaller, and his turns were more fluid, but his tempo was a bit off. Without much thought, Drake placed his hands on Steelbeak's forearms.

"Follow my lead," Drake instructed. “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…”

Drake watched as their steps slowly synchronized to the beat. Their stares planted to their feet as they matched their respected steps. With a step back and a step to the side, they managed to turn effortlessly without falling onto the pavement.

"Hey! I got it!"

"Now you're getting the hang of it. You'll be walking on clouds in no time."

Before they could pick up the pace, Drake gave his apprentice a few pointers. "Hold your partner tight, like this," he said as he wrapped Steelbeak's arm tighter around his waist. He saw that Steelbeak's eyes widened. "And be sure to look into their eyes." 

Steelbeak hesitated but soon locked eyes with the smaller man. His metal piercing stare softened behind his deathly white mask. Drake noticed dark lines under his heavy eyes as if he hadn't seen an ounce of sleep in a while. 

"Now, keep your back straight, shoulders up, chin high-"

"Wait, uh-"

"-Relax your muscles, keep your feet steady, and above all, make sure you don't step on their- AAH!" Drake yelled as he hopped on his good leg. He held onto his throbbing foot with both hands.

"GAH! SCREW THIS!" Steelbeak yelled as he tossed his hands in the air as a sign of forfeit. He stomped toward the fountain and plopped down to take a seat. He pulled out a small box from his pocket and pulled out another cigarette with his beak. 

A wave of guilt hit Drake. He'd never meant for things to go so awry. He limped toward the fountain and sat an arms reach away from Steelbeak. He'd rather share a few moments of strained silence with a complete stranger than go back and deal with more heartache.

"Shouldn't you be inside with your rich friends?" Steelbeak asked.

"I don't know anyone there. I mean, a friend invited me, but he's busy right now, and I don't want to stay in there with all those guys in their stuffy suits."

"Right?!" Steelbeak beamed, completely shifting from his disgruntled mood. "Black suits are  _ soooooo  _ tacky. I'm only wearin' this garbage cuz my part- uh, I mean, my Granny said it was mandatory. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be caught dead in this. And if I was, well, that would suck."

Drake laughed into his hand. "I hear you. I'd do anything to be in my slippers right about now. These shoes are killing me," he said as he tapped the tips of his shoes together.

"Nice Derby's. A little casual for the occasion, but the leather's real nice."

"I thought these were Oxfords?"

"No, look," he said as pointed at Drake's shoes. "The stitchin's different. They're open laced, so the quarters' sewn on top of the vamp. They're supposed to be more flexible, but you probably didn't beat your shoes in enough if they still hurt your feet."

"Huh, the more you know. Are you a fashion designer?"

"Nah, I'm, uh, I-I do odd jobs here ‘n there."

"What kind of jobs?"

Steelbeak's mind went blank. He wasn't used to having someone listen to him, especially if they weren't being held captive. "I work for my Granny's, uh, company," he explained. "We work together, but she just thinks of me like I'm some sorta dope. She doesn't get that I'm not just there for the muscle. I got good ideas too, like one time I-" Steelbeak blinked. He lowered his gaze onto the floor. "Uh, f-forget it. You'd think it's dumb too."

"Oh no, I bet it's not dumb at all. I'd love to hear it."

Even though he couldn't see his face, Drake felt that Steelbeak smiled underneath his mask from the way his eyes creased. Steelbeak flicked his cigarette onto the floor and shifted closer to the smaller man. 

"So, you know how the moon's made outta cheese, right?"

… Drake was definitely not drunk enough to hear this.

Drake listened in excruciating detail how Steelbeak planned to take the moon with a harpoon gun and "extra long rope". He believed that by taking the moon, he would be able to sell it to the highest bidder and live out his days living in luxury. Drake could spend all night pointing out everything wrong with Steelbeak's plan, but he was captivated by how his hands gestured and how his excitement came out in his voice.

"So, whaddya think?"

"It's definitely the most… imaginative idea I've heard."

"You think so?" Steelbeak said as he scratched the side of his mask. "I-I don't really get a chance to tell anyone my ideas. Granny's always sayin' they're stupid. She thinks I'm no good at anything. What does she know? She only has like twelve diplomas."

The splashing sound of crystal-clear water flowing from the fountain cut through the strained silence. Disembodied voices and distant music echoed through the maze. 

Drake put a hand on Steelbeak's knee. He smiled, "Well, for one thing, you're a pretty good dancer."

Steelbeak scoffed. "Just pretty good?"

" _ Very  _ good."

Drake's hand rested against the edge of the fountain, and Steelbeak followed suit. His heart jolted when he saw their hands were just a pinky reach away from each other. That usually happened whenever he and Launchpad sat together during a Darkwing movie, or accidentally brushed hands sharing nachos. He thought escaping the city for a night would calm him, but he missed the boisterous noise. The sound would drown his beating heart. 

In the corner of their eyes, they noticed a large slab of stone from the stone path wobble side-to-side. The two shot up from their seats with their fists ready. They were unprepared when the plate lifted to reveal a couple of small heads.

"Are we in a different dimension?"

"I don't know. It looks like something from  _ Alice In Wonderland _ ."

"I'd rather be back in the kid's room if we were stuck in a dumb old book."

Drake recognized the sarcastic tone in the girl's voice. He yelled out, "Gosalyn Mallard!"

The girl turned her head to meet her father's displeased look. "Yikes! It's my dad! Every duck for themselves!" 

The other kids ran back inside the tunnel while Gosalyn tried to outrun her father. Before she could make a break for it, Drake slid his hands under her arm and held her up in the air. Her legs ran in the air for a few moments before realizing she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Drake put her down.

He put his hands to his hips, a pose Gosalyn was more than used to seeing. "What did I tell you about going into secret passageways without my permission?"

Gosalyn put her hands to her back and let out an exasperated sigh. "Too not to," she muttered.

"What were you thinking? You could've gotten hurt."

"But I  _ didn't _ . Webby said it was an escape tunnel that the family used to hide from the, umm, precipitation. We didn't go through any booby traps or anything." 

"It's persecution, and I don't care. Look at you; you're covered in dirt." 

Gosalyn looked at her person. "I think it gives me character, don't ya think?"

Drake sighed. "You know the drill, sweetie, no video games for a week. And I'm cutting your allowance to pay for the cleaning bill."

"But  _ Daaaaad _ ."

"No more but's, young lady. I make the rules to keep you safe, not so you could break them. I don't know what I'd do if you'd gotten hurt. If you break the rules one more time, I'm taking away your skateboard."

As Drake scolded his daughter, the girl's attention went to the taller man behind him. "Keen gear!" She exclaimed as she ran toward the taller man, completely dismissing her father. 

Steelbeak was taken aback by the girl's excitement.

"That mask is way cool! Can I see?"

Steelbeak thought about it for a moment. He knelt to Gosalyn's level and let her examine his mask with as much intrigue as a ten-year-old could have.

"This is wicked awesome! It's a bazillion times cooler than all those boring masks everyone's wearin'. What's it supposed to be?"

"I dunno. I got it 'cuz it looked cool."

"It's a plague doctor's mask," Drake injected. "They're physicians that took care of patients infected with the bubonic plague in the middle ages. They would stuff herbs and flowers in their beak because they believed it would filter out the germs."

"Oooohhh," they said in unison.

"Course you would know that, Dad. You know everything."

"Well, I do know my fair share of miscellaneous history," he boasted. "I did take a college course on Medieval history for a bit. I never did finish that course, but I learned a whole lot about boils and puss. A  _ whole  _ lot. Huh… Now that I think about it, that's probably why I dropped out."

While Drake went off on a tangent, Gosalyn cupped her mouth to Steelbeak's ear and whispered, "But he doesn't know I keep a stash of horror movies hidden under my bed."

Steelbeak cupped his hand and added, "Look for some old books around the house that no one reads and cut the inside of it into a secret safe. You're gonna need a lot of glue, but you can hide as much stuff as you want."

"Oh! That's a good idea."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" They exclaimed.

Gosalyn patted some of the dust from her suit. "Welp," she said as she slowly backed away from the two, "it was nice meeting you, Mr. Plague Doctor, but really I gotta go. See ya later, Dad, bye!" She ran back inside the tunnel and plopped the stone above her head shut.

"Wait, Gosalyn!" Drake shouted in vain.

"Cute kid," Steelbeak commented as he stood back up. "She don't got any of your looks though. Must get it from her mom."

"About that…" Drake said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "There is no mother." 

Steelbeak raised a brow. "So... she's a clone?"

"She's not a clone."

"Robot?"

"No."

"Oh, she's a demon trapped in a little girl's body. Why didn't you say something earlier? I never figured you to be a cultist since you don't got a robe and bald head and all."

"I'm not a cultist! And she's not a demon. She's just an ordinary girl who likes to wear horns to school to scare her teachers," he stressed, rethinking his previous statement. "I adopted Gosalyn a little over a year ago. I know it sounds weird, being a single father and all, but we've been through a lot together. It's been rough the past couple of weeks, with the new job and everything but… Yeah, it's been rough."

Steelbeak didn't like the sudden change in Drake's demeanor, and he wasn't sure why. "Listen, I, uhh… I didn't mean to snap at you earlier," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You-You think we can try the fancy dance thing again?"

Drake felt his heart flutter. 

"B-But only if you want to!" Steelbeak stuttered, feeling the heat beneath his collar. "Y-Your foot must still be hurtin' pretty bad, and I get it if you don't wanna dance anymore."

Drake caught himself before he could reply. Instead, he held out his hand toward the taller man. Steelbeak took his hand, and the two danced to the distant sound of Dmitri Shostakovich's  _ The Second Waltz _ .

They waltzed around the fountain, and a small breeze sent rose petals dancing through the air. The two danced out of the maze, across the stone path and through the garden. Drake felt he could dance the night away, but his shoes felt otherwise. They walked with their hands in their pockets across a small bridge with white rails. Drake stood beside Steelbeak while he leaned against the railings with his back.

"So, you didn't bring a date?" Steelbeak asked as he fiddled with his cufflinks.

"No, not exactly," Drake replied sheepishly. "Well, I thought my friend, the one who invited me, would sorta... you know." 

Steelbeak shrugged.

"Well, I thought he'd be my date."

"Oh? What happened?"

"He ran into an old flame before I could ask him to dance. I thought it would've been better if I wasn't there to cramp his style," Drake laughed, feeling the pain tighten in his chest. He leaned against the rail and rested his head on his arms. "It's not the first time it's happened, so I thought I'd get used to it, but… I don't know. He looked so happy. Maybe I'm just being selfish."

The two shared a few moments of silence. Drake sulked as he stared out onto the streaming creek. Leaves and flower petals flowed down the shimmering stream. Steelbeak's stare fixed on the full moon. He reached for his carton but kept his hand on it instead. He knew he wanted to smoke, but never understood why he didn't.

"Wanna make him jealous?" Steelbeak blurted.

Drake's head shot up, and his face flushed red. "What? H-How? I… I can't do that!"

"Sure you can," Steelbeak replied nonchalantly. "We go in, make goo-goo eyes at each other, we dance some more and blam! He'll get so jealous; he'll be beggin' to be in my shoes. I mean, I wouldn't blame him. These are custom made."

"Gee, I don't know. I-I've never done anything like that before. It all sounds kind of-"

"Smart? Very smart? Super smart?"

"I was going to say conniving."

"C'mon, what's holdin' you back? Hmm? You afraid of a little  _ danger _ ?"

Drake felt insulted. His whole life revolved around the concept of danger. He lived, breathed, he'd eat danger if he could.

He could feel Steelbeak grinning beneath his mask. Drake still felt doubtful about the plan, but he was more than certain about his feelings for Launchpad. If it worked, he and Launchpad would leave hand-in-hand, and if not, well, he'd rather not think about it. Maybe this could be the wake-up call he needed.

"Alright then," Drake said with a grin. "Let's. Get. Dangerous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you guys have the time, I recommend doing some yoga. I've been doing 15-20 min sessions and my back has never felt better!!!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if yall got a twitter and/or ig you should follow me @zuriscribbles I've been drawing more than I've been writing but I'm working on finding a good balance of doing both  
> Anway, enjoy chapter three!

"Seriously? That's the guy?" Steelbeak marveled in disbelief. 

Drake nudged his elbow on his arm.

"Alright, alright. I ain't gonna judge, but those shoes and that tie, yeesh."

The two stood by the doors to the garden while they waited for the song to finish. Launchpad chatted with a new group on the other side of the dance floor, and the woman in pink stood beside him. She was in the arms of the man she was with earlier. His hair was tousled, and his tie was loose around his collar. Drake was glad Launchpad was having the time of his life, yet he couldn't help but feel jealous that he wasn't the reason for his smile.

"So," Drake said as he clasped his hands together, "how do we do this again?"

"It's real simple. Just talk to me like I'm the most interestin' guy you've met, which shouldn't be all that hard," Steelbeak grinned as he used his hand to emphasize his masked face. "And who knows, with my charmin' personality, you might drop him and end up fallin' for me."

"Sure," Drake remarked sarcastically, "and I'll be sure to have an officiant on speed-dial just in case we want to get married too."

"Huh?"

"I'M SO SORRY! I SAID IT AS A JOKE I'M NEVER GOING TO SPEAK AGAIN!"

Steelbeak hugged his stomach as he laughed. It had less to do with Drake hastily covering his flustered face and more to do with how he forgot to breathe at that moment. "You got jokes, Mallard," he remarked as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

As Drake hastily drank another champagne glass, Steelbeak pulled out a flask from the inside of his jacket. He took a swig and offered a sip to the smaller duck, which Drake refused almost immediately. He thought the smell alone could tie knots with his insides. Steelbeak took another swig before hiding it back inside his pocket. He snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downed it as well. 

The lively sounds of strings danced among the guests. With a sip of his champagne, Drake felt a rush flow up his spine and ease into his shoulders. As Steelbeak raved about his new outfit, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, and the music became louder. Drake's gaze passed the tall man before him and onto the redhead on the other side of the dancefloor. 

"And then the guy says to me 'I can't take out the pickles, you'd have to buy another burger,' so I said 'how'd you like to buy another face cuz I'm gonna break it if you tell me the same thing again.' Haha! You should've seen the look on his face. He looked like he was gonna pass out. Hahahaha!"

"That's nice," Drake muttered, his stare unbroken.

Steelbeak turned his head and found what caught his attention. It wasn't unusual for Steelbeak to get the sudden urge to punch someone, but he felt more inclined to do so. 

Maybe it had to do with how Drake's eyes could look so longingly over someone else. He wasn't sure what to call this feeling, but he wasn't having it.

"Hey," Steelbeak blurted. He cupped Drake's chin between his thumb and finger and guided his stare back to his face. Wide eyes locked onto his. "Keep your eyes on me, alright?" 

Drake felt the feathers on the back of his neck stand up as a shiver ran down his spine. There was something different about his voice. It sounded gruffer, bolder. Dark eyes locked onto his as if it were digging for his soul. His face felt hot, and beads of sweat stuck onto his mask. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol in his system, but Drake felt his knees would give out on him. "Alright," Drake muttered softly.

Steelbeak grinned. He put his hands in his pocket and leaned against the wall with his shoulder. "Your Prince Charmin' isn't gonna give you the time of day if you keep oglin' him like a piece of meat, ya know. What's got you so hot n' bothered about him anyway? He rich or somethin'?"

That was a dangerous question. The last person to ask him about Launchpad was his mother, and those were three hours of her life she could never get back. "Well," Drake said as he thought about a quick and straightforward answer. He was embarrassed to admit it, but even thinking about him made his heart flutter. "He's kind, and he's thoughtful, and he's great with Gosalyn." 

Steelbeak raised a brow. "So, he's not rich?"

"No, and it wouldn't matter if he were. I'd still love him no matter what." 

It took Drake a moment to realize what had just come out of his mouth. He wished he had worn his hat to cover his face. 

"Love, huh? Must be real special if you can say that about him. Wonder if anyone can say the same about me," he chuckled.

Drake wasn't sure if he had meant it as a joke, but he sensed some pain in his voice. The way he looked out onto the crowd with his dark, tired eyes. It made him wonder more about what Steelbeak meant. 

"Dad… Dad!"

"Huh?" Drake said as he snapped out of his mind. He looked toward his daughter and found her holding up the arm of her jacket. "What happened to your sleeve?" He asked.

"It ripped when we were playing hide-and-go-tackle. Can you fix it,  _ pleaseeeeee _ ?" She pleaded with her puppy-dog eyes. "I was just about to finish the backstory for my new character. Secret Agent Cobra Karloff, the youngest spy in the history of history! Her dad was the best spy in the world, but he went missing during his latest mission, and now it's up to Agent Cobra to find him. She's a super-smart, juice loving, kung-fu master. Hiya!" She shouted as she struck a pose. "Whaddya think?"

"I think you need to be more careful when you're making another secret identity," Drake said as he pulled out his mini sewing kit from his pocket. "It's bad enough that you got dirt all over your suit, now it looks like you've been tossed around in a tornado." Drake sighed, "I knew I should've just bought it."

"You should listen to your old man," Steelbeak injected as Drake started to fix her sleeve. "A suit can tell a lot about a person. Take a look at me," he said as he waved a hand at his person. "Snazzy suit, snazzy guy. It's basic geography."

"Makes perfect sense to me."

Steelbeak nodded. "Mmm-hmm, and it not too shabby when it comes to impressin' smokin' hot babes."

Gosalyn gasped as she turned to her father with starry eyes. "I wanna impress smokin' hot babes too, Dad!"

"No, and I never want to hear you say 'smokin' hot babes' again," Drake lectured as he punctured the needle one last time through Gosalyn's sleeve. He raised a brow at Steelbeak and added, "What exactly are you trying to teach her?"

"Nothin' she doesn't already have. There's a lady killer hidden under there somewhere. I'm just tryin'a unlock all that polenta."

"You see, Dad. I have polenta," Gosalyn boasted.

"Don't you mean  _ potential _ ?"

"Y-Yeah, that's what I meant. I'm just, uh, just hungry is all," Steelbeak stuttered as he crossed his arms in defense. "But I gotta ask," he said as he turned his attention to the small redhead, "does Agent Cobra have a sidekick? And if she does, is it a dog?"

"Even better," Gosalyn beamed. "Her sidekick is an iguana named Charlie The Destroyer. She has a robot eye that can shoot lasers, and she can speak British. Agent Cobra got her as a birthday present after nicely asking her dad for a pet for  _ three months _ ," Gosalyn explained as she batted her eyes at her father.

Drake rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure it had to do with her getting good grades and __ doing her chores when she's supposed to more than anything."

Gosalyn pouted.

"Iguanas are the ones that change colors, right?" Steelbeak asked.

"No, those are chameleons. Iguanas breathe fire  _ and _ change color."

"I knew it," Steelbeak said as he hit his fist against his palm. His stomach growled suddenly, and he rubbed a hand on his stomach. "Where the hell are the waiters? I'm starvin'."

"You should wait by the kitchen. You'll have better luck there."

"Good call, Mallard. Don't miss me too much while I'm gone," he teased as he turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen.

The gentle sway of his tail added a certain air of bravado to his walk. He'd never seen such a lovely green color on anyone else before. Drake didn't want to admit it, but it was a pleasing sight.

"Is he one of your friends from work?" Gosalyn blurted.

"No, what makes you say that?"

"I just thought that you guys must've been friends since you've been with him  _ all  _ night. That or he's a blood-thirsty vampire waiting to kidnap you and take you to his castle cuz you're the reincarnation of his dead wife."

It was no wonder Gosalyn aced all her writing classes. "Lonely vampire husband, no. Friend, on the other hand…" Drake paused as he bit the bottom of his beak, unsure of what to call him exactly.

" _ Weeeeeeeeeell _ while you figure it out I'm gonna split too. Webby and the guys wanna check out the graveyard-I mean library! We're totally gonna go to the library and  _ not  _ summon ghosts or anything. Haha! That'd be  _ soooooooo  _ not responsible."

"I'll let you go, but on one condition. You have to dance with me for one song."

"But  _ Daaaaaad _ ," Gosalyn groaned, "you know I hate dancing."

"It's only for one song, Gosalyn. I just want one nice dance with my little girl, and then you can summon as many poltergeists as you want."

" _ Ughhhhhh _ . Fine, but if we summon a demon, it's gonna be my new little sister."

"Deal."

As the two rushed toward the dancefloor, Steelbeak planted his back against the staircase as he scoped out for any trays that carried food he recognized. Grey mush. Gross cheese. Weird fish eggs. More grey mush. 

His luck turned when a waiter came out with a tray of pizza bites. He snatched the entire plate and shooed the confused waiter away.

"And what do you think you're doing?" A woman beside him scowled.

Steelbeak turned to his side to find his graying partner standing next to him. She had her arms crossed and eyes narrowed behind her bright red mask. 

"What's it look like I'm doin'?" He said as he popped a pizza bite in his mouth. "I'm layin' low, just like you told me to do."

"Stuffing your face isn't part of the plan, and don't think I haven't noticed what you've been doing. I don't need you to get distracted by such  _ trivial  _ things," Heron sneered as she glared behind her.

Steelbeak rolled his eyes. "Trivial, shrivial. I know what I'm doing'."

"You better. I want you to be in the auction hall in exactly twenty minutes, and not a second later," she commanded in her usual nagging tone.

Steelbeak rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever,  _ Granny _ ."

"What was that?"

"I said," he repeated as he handed her a mini appetizer, "wanna pizza bite?"

Heron narrowed her eyes. "Imbecile," she muttered as she turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Steelbeak finished the tray and placed it on top of another empty plate as a waiter passed by him. A girl in the puffiest, sparkliest dress he'd ever seen joined them in their dancing circle. Drake stumbled out of the dance floor and stumbled toward the rooster.

" _ Phew _ . Man, my feet are killing me," Drake breathed as he tried to catch his breath. "Poor Gosalyn, she's in it for the long run now," he laughed. He pulled the mask from his face and wiped his brow with his sleeve. 

Steelbeak's breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the faint blush on Drake's cheeks. The soft, golden glow that shone against his eyes made them appear more noticeable, more full of life. The smile on his face as he adjusted his cufflinks sent Steelbeak's heart fluttering in his chest.

"Beautiful," he blurted.

"Aren't they?" Drake beamed as he flaunted his wrists. "They're the limited edition Darkwing Duck cufflinks from the Darkwing Duck formal wear collection. I got these babies at the St. Canard Comic-Con a couple of years ago. Here, take a look."

Steelbeak wasn't sure if he should be glad Drake didn't catch what he meant, but he still took Drake's hands in his. Soft, snow-white hands felt light and delicate against his.

"I have to be careful when I wear them, though. They've fallen off so often that I don't know what I'd do if I lost them," he chuckled. "Notice how the color's more to Darkwing's costume in the show than in the comics."

"Really? I used to read the comics when I was a kid, but I never got around to watchin' the show."

"What?!" Drake shouted.

All eyes glued to them for a moment.

Drake clasped his fingers around Steelbeak's hands, and he was filled with an air of determination. "That's unacceptable!" He exclaimed. "As your new friend, I'm going to make it my duty to make sure you watch every episode, every movie, and every holiday special."

Steelbeak's eyes widened _. Friend.  _ It was a word he wasn't familiar with for a long time. The only person he could think of coming close to that would instead use him as a test dummy more than anything. 

"Of course, I'll have to make sure to curate it to make it a more palpable first watch. The first two seasons are a bit out of order, but it's nothing to bat an eye at. I've listed each episode in the correct order and…"

Steelbeak glanced behind the smaller duck as he went off on another tangent. He saw the man Drake was trying to get with all night staring back at them.

"Hey, Drake!" Launchpad waved as he cut through the dancers. "Sorry I disappeared on you like that, I was tryin' to go look for you, but they kept asking me questions like if I was married or if I had any kids. No one asked me what my favorite color was, which was weird. Anyway, who's your friend?" 

"Oh, this is my friend, Mr. Steelbeak."

"Mr. Steelbeak?..." Launchpad repeated with a raised brow. "That's a cool name. Nice to meet you," he greeted as he held out his hand, which Steelbeak accepted, "I'm Launchpad McQuack. I'm a pilot."

"Launchpad?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Hmm? You've heard of me? Did I crash my plane onto your car? That's usually how people know me." 

Steelbeak's hand tightened as his mind flooded with memories of his last encounter with the pilot.

"Woah, that's some grip you got there," Launchpad said as he pulled his hand back, rubbing it to ease the pain. "Are you an arm-wrestling champion?"

"Something like that," he growled.

"Cool! I tried to get into it, but Webby beat me all the time. She's really good." Launchpad's attention turned to the smaller duck, a faint dust of blush grew on his cheeks. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you wanted to dance with me. I've been meaning to ask you for a while, and I thought now would be the best time."

Steelbeak's blood boiled throughout his body. His face flushed red with rage under his mask at the sight of Launchpad's smile. Suddenly, his shoulders relaxed, and the heat from his face melted away the moment he felt Drake's hands wrapped his arms.

"Sorry LP, maybe later. Mr. Steelbeak asked me first."

'Oh," Launchpad muttered as he lowered his gaze. "Alright, I'll just wait until you're done." 

Drake raised his chin in triumph and led Steelbeak to the dancefloor. "Wow! I can't believe I did that! I feel so, so dirty," he gushed as he jumped up and down with excitement. "How was that? Do you think it worked?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. You did good," he muttered. 

It was a miracle his cover wasn't blown, but Steelbeak wondered how much longer he could hide his facade. Maybe he should take his chances and high-tail it out of there before anyone caught wind of the plan. 

Before he knew it, Drake had already settled his hand on his shoulder, and they swayed around billowing dresses. His gentle hums filled the space, and a song emitted from his lips.

_ "I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam." _

His voice was calming and quiet. It was soothing in a way that he's never heard before. 

"You'll _ love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream _ ."

"What're you singin'?" Steelbeak asked. 

"It's from an old movie I used to watch with my sisters when we were younger. They would play it  _ all  _ the time, but then again, I did watch Darkwing Duck on repeat for an entire week," he chuckled. "And before you ask, one is married, and the other is sixteen, so they're not exactly  _ eligible _ ."

"Bummer," Steelbeak said sarcastically. "Guess I'll have to make do with the cuter, more  _ eligible _ brother."

Drake felt his face turn into a red mess. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a comment. 

"Ya know," Steelbeak blurted, his voice low as ever. "I remember you sayin' that if I got better at dancin', then I'd be walkin' on clouds in no time."

Drake raised a brow. "Your point?"

"Point is, we've been dancin' all night and nothin's happened."

Drake couldn't help but smile. "I guess you and I should do this more often."

"Funny," Steelbeak grinned, "I was thinkin' the same thing."

Slowly, Drake felt a hand slide up his back and on the back of his head. The hand eased his head to Steelbeak's chest, and Drake melted as he listened to the sound of his heart. 

"I dunno about you, but I'd like to stay like this for a while longer if you don't mind."

Drake felt his heart jolt. As much as he was against love-at-first-sight, especially when it comes to masked strangers, he figured the feelings he had were close to that. For all he knew, Steelbeak could be a prince hidden under the mask.

"I don't mind at all," he said as he nuzzled his head on Steelbeak's chest, to the rooster's delight.

With every sway and turn, a weight lifted from their shoulders, and it felt like they were the only ones on earth. With the roar of violins coming to an end, Steelbeak gave Drake one last twirl before pulling him back to his person and pressing their bodies together.

They stared at each other in a perplexed way as the dancers clapped for the musicians. The smell of alcohol still lingered behind his mask, flooding Drake with want and warmth. Steelbeak leaned in, and Drake followed suit. An agonizingly slow hand slid up Drake's spine to rest against the back of his head. Their lips could've met, and it would've been perfect. 

_ Beep Beep Beep _

They both froze.

Steelbeak looked down at his watch and cursed to himself.

"I... I have to go," he said as he lifted Drake back onto his feet. He couldn't bring himself to look at Drake's bewildered expression. His thumb brushed against his knuckles slowly, savoring Drake's touch in his hands. With the turn of his heel, and disappeared into the crowd.

Drake's hand hovered in the air for a few moments, and a strain ached in his heart again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man this is some long party lol I cant wait to write the juicer stuff :3c

**Author's Note:**

> it's 12:48 am here I need to sleep


End file.
